Question:
I will admit: I’m a bit of a perfectionist. I like things to be done right, and sometimes (read: “often”) I lose my cool (read: “I blow up like a maniac”) at people.
The problem, I think, is that the people around me — both at work and at home — have learned to tune me out. The more I yell, the less they can hear me! And now, I don’t know what to do…
I recognize that yelling harder won’t work, but on the other hand, if I bite my tongue and bottle-in my feedback, I’m pretty sure that I will blow up even more! Please help!!!
Advice from the Sages:
A Jewish law (mishna) that is customarily read every Friday night instructs the man of the house to remind his wife to light Shabbat candles on time, in addition to other preparations that need to be completed before the sun sets.
Realizing that the average man will understand this obligation as a mandate to yell at his wife and kids while feeling self-righteous, the Talmud elaborates with the following clarifying detail:
He should say these reminders calmly so that [the members of his home] actually listen to and internalize his words.
Last week, we saw how the Academy of Hillel developed listening habits that were not only characterized as noble in and of themselves, but were also considered to be the reason that they arrived at the accepted law more often than their objectively sharper colleagues in the Academy of Shammai.
Patience and humility turn out to be not only hallmarks of a good person (tzadik–צדיק), but also a smart person (chacham-חכם).
Note that, here too, the Talmud encourages the head of the household to gently remind his family members that Shabbat is upon them in order so that they listen to what he’s saying.
Ironically, speaking softer makes the message come through louder.
Why is this?
Every message has a medium. The same story can be written into a novel, performed as a play, filmed as a movie, or condensed into a microdrama. The same subject can be sculpted in clay, stone, paper mache, or paperclips. The art is choosing which medium will best convey the message without eclipsing it. This can easily happen if the medium is louder than the message, leaving the audience thinking more about the medium than the message. Consider Rodin’s “The Thinker” sculpted from sushi rolls. It’s nearly impossible to look at it and think about anything other than, “Why on earth did he make it out of sushi!?!”

While screaming is an appropriate medium for telling a child to get out of the road as cars are fast approaching, it is rarely best medium for conveying any message that has more depth or subtlety than this — for the simple reason that it overwhelms the message in the same way that the sushi overwhelms “The Thinker.”
You are correct in saying that your kids and employees have tuned you out because you are yelling. Your message is drowned out by your screaming. And even more than this, the fact that you’re screaming works against your message. You are making it seem like your message cannot speak for itself. Apparently, it doesn’t have the merits to be listened to unless you amplify it at the top of your lungs.
The art of education has an added dimension.
Education is not merely transmitting messages into the empty minds of students. Education is about cultivating opportunities for people to choose, on their own volition, to take steps down the path that is their own.
When a parent or teacher uses incentives or threats to control a child’s behavior, this is not education. Incentives and threats are useful and even vital tools that can lead to education, but they should not be confused with education itself.1
Forcing a child to play piano with the threat of losing their allowance if they don’t will only educate the child to love playing piano if it ultimately leads them to an experience of enjoying the playing piano itself. However, if at no point does the child find herself choosing on her own to play on her own, she will almost certainly develop resentment towards piano — as well as the parents and teachers who forced her to play it.
It is this exact principle that is at play in the well-known, but not well-understood story of Moshe hitting the rock. After 40 years in the desert, the nation was ready for a true educational experience — to see Moshe speaking gently to an inanimate rock and watching it pour forth water as if through its own volition. This image would have inspired people’s intrinsic motivation to bring out their own potential through their own uncoerced choices.
But, tragically, this isn’t what happened.
The people had grown up, but Moshe underestimated them.
Forty years earlier, the nation needed the structure of discipline. There, Hashem did instruct Moshe to hit a rock to draw forth water. They needed to see the simple power of cause-and-effect. Training — not education.
It seems that Moshe as a leader and teacher remained stuck in this control-discipline mode. He didn’t believe that the message of instrinsic motivation would speak for itself. He didn’t believe that his people were ready to hear it. And he didn’t believe in Hashem Who told them that they were. As a result, he would not be the one to take their education to the next level.
The idea is not to “bite your tongue” indefinitely. This is unsustainable, and a waste of the valuable insight you have to share. As a parent and teacher you have an obligation to share your feedback and give guidance. But know and believe that your message will only penetrate the minds and hearts of those you want to influence to the degree to which you believe in the merits of the message, and in the people to whom you are speaking.
The greatest medium for the message of belief in others is communicating to them in a way that shows that that you believe in them and in the intrinsic value of what you are sharing with them.
This principle is developed into a practical framework for parenting and teaching in the excellent book Spare the Child by Rabbi Yechiel Yaakovson.